I Could Spend My Life
by Tarafina
Summary: "Noah...? Can I be forever yours?" :Puckleberry:


**Title**: I Could Spend My Life (In This Sweet Surrender)  
><strong>Category<strong>: Glee  
><strong>Genre<strong>: Romance  
><strong>Ship<strong>: Puck/Rachel  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: Picture / "Can I be forever yours?" by pristhebest – puckrachel drabble meme (part 9)  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 1,279  
><strong>Summary<strong>: "Noah...? Can I be forever yours?"

**_I Could Spend My Life (In This Sweet Surrender)_**  
>-11-

She was lying in his bed in little more than a white, cable-knit sweater. Her legs were up, reaching for the sun filtering through the window. She could feel the heat on her feet and a gentle breeze cooling her toes. She wiggled them, slipping one foot over her ankle.

He laid next to her on his stomach, papers spread out in front of him, a pen flicking back and forth in one hand while the other was tangled in her hair, twirling it around his long fingers.

He was distracted, his brows furrowed, jaw wound tight.

He was writing. Or trying to.

A song.

One of many that he finished and hid away in drawers or notebooks or sometimes balled up and threw away.

She never told him she grabbed them out and smoothed out all the wrinkles, putting them away for safe keeping. Whether he appreciated his genius or not, she did. Talent was not something she would allow to go to waste. Not when he had such an underappreciated abundance.

Vaguely, she could hear movement, downstairs maybe, his mom and sister.

It seemed so far away; the world outside his room. She felt like she'd been hiding there, in the comfortable peace of just 'them' for much longer than it could have possibly been. Months; years; a whole lifetime spent behind his closed door, on top of his bed or under his covers. Wrapped in him, breathing in that woodsy scent of his, fingers combing through his 'hawk.

The weekend, she thought. She came over on Friday and she hadn't left. Occasionally, he went downstairs to get them food or snag some movies, but otherwise they were camped out in his bedroom. Her clothes were in his washer; a shirt with hearts all over, a tiny black skirt and white stockings. She'd stolen the sweater from him; it was warm and giant on her petite frame and it smelled of him. Sometimes, she turned her head and breathed it in just to feel her heart skip a beat.

She never wanted to leave. She liked how she felt when she was with him; when she had his fingers twined with hers or his voice at her ear. When he woke up and squeezed her, burying his face in her neck and just sighing. When he teased her for how invested she was in each of her TV shows, which of course she made him watch. At home or not, she wasn't about to miss her weekly dose of drama and romance. Cuddled up in his bed, his TV playing The Vampire Diaries, she rolled her eyes while he made fun, only to get just as involved as her, asking questions on commercials to get caught up.

She didn't care that it probably wasn't right; that if his mother ever came into his room and found her there, she'd probably have a whole lot to say, much of it in angry Yiddish. She didn't care that he was her ex's best friend. That her mother called his daughter her one and only. That the glee club would no doubt mock them, taking bets on when they would no doubt crash and burn.

None of that mattered, because…

She was happy.

He made her _happy_.

Her eyes wandered up the length of her smooth, naked legs and stared thoughtfully at the hemp and bead anklet he'd made for her. Her lips turned up at the corners slowly. "Noah?" she murmured, soft and quiet, like she worried the rest of the world might hear her and intervene.

"Hm?" he hummed.

"Can I be forever yours?"

He didn't reply right away and she turned her head to look at him.

His brows were hiked, his eyes wide and sparking such a vivid green. And she could see it in the plains of his face – _why? _

She rolled over then, resting her chin on her upturned hand, bringing her face in close to his. His eyes followed her, his expression relaxing. Her sweater slid down, her shoulder bare, her hair slipping over it lightly. She reached for him and let her thumb slide along his lower lip lingeringly.

He bit the pad lightly, kissing it right after.

"We can live in New York, off of music and dreams and ramen noodles..." She smiled delicately. "You can sing in smoky bars and pen lyrics all day long..." She pressed her forehead to his and then maneuvered him onto his back, straddling his waist.

His head fell back against ink spattered papers, lyrics started and scratched out, his eyes stuck to her searchingly. His hands found there way up the sweater to her hips, thumbs rubbing and pressing into her skin.

Her hair fell to curtain them in. "You can write them in my skin... With your fingers—" She touched his hand beneath the bunched up sweater. "—And your mouth." She braced her arms around his head and let her nose bump his softly. "We can sing them in our tiny apartment… Free and happy and away from everyone who ever doubted us…"

His hands slid around, fingers fanning out over the small of her back.

She trailed her fingers over his collar bones, up to his shoulders and pressed them into the curves of his biceps.

"Can I, Noah?" she whispered, eyes darting up to him hopefully.

He leaned up and caught her lips; slanting his mouth across hers, hard and possessive. His arms tightened around her as he turned them over with her on her back, spread out beneath him. The familiar weight of his body pressed into hers stole her breath and she squeezed his shoulders tight. One of his hands brushed stray hair away from her face before burying beneath her neck, squeezing the nape and skipping his thumb back and forth against her pulse.

His tongue was hot as it stroked hers and tickled the roof of her mouth. His teeth dragged across her upper lip, digging in just a little when she bit him like she always did, like she was marking him as hers. Their noses bumped and rubbed and she grinned, remembering how Kurt had once teased her about it being like PG nose sex.

It went from rough and hard to soft and lingering in just seconds. He pulled back just a little, one of his hands across the top of her head, his fingers fanned out, thumb rubbing circles against her temple. And then it was just his lips, unmoving, touching hers. And his nose pressed side to side to hers, breathing heavy.

His eyes opened and he stared down at her. He stared at her with those eyes she always sought out in crowded rooms. The eyes that bore into hers when he was angry and softened when he was sad. That hid behind long, dark lashes, turning away whenever he saw her with Finn. And lit up that day, months ago, when they sat at the piano and she told him she'd broken up with Finn for good. When he drummed his fingers over the keys and sang _I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing _to her...

And just like she'd always been able to read what he felt, what he wanted, she saw there his answer. A promise that reached far beyond the confines of his bedroom. Beyond the walls of McKinley high school. Past the limits of Lima, Ohio. To a yet rented apartment in New York City. A one-day billed stage. A waiting bar, a stool and mic lit beneath a smoky spot light. To a life they would one day share.

Forever his.

Forever hers.

_Forever._

[**End.**]


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